Broken
by JustASmallTownGirl123
Summary: "His frame is smaller, less built. There is stubble on his chin and his shirt is wrinkled. His eyes are closed, trying to stop the tears, she thinks, but she knows if they were open they would show her the same thing she sees in the rest of him. He's broken. He's not and will never be the same man who walked away from her three years ago." Oneshot. New Years. EO.


Broken

It's New Years Eve and all of the presents still sit under the tree. The shiny green and red wrapping paper and bows surely collecting dust from sitting in the same spot for over a week. She hasn't had the heart to move them yet, she has hardly done much moving herself in the last few days.

He'd called Christmas Eve to tell her that he wouldn't be making it home until late that night, most likely early the next morning, something about drawing the short straw at work, and she had understood. She hadn't thought a thing of it, knowing what it was like to be new to a unit and having to put up with the crap hours now and again.

She had woke the next morning, expecting to find him sleeping beside her, but rolled over onto an empty pillow. Disappointed, but still understanding she had called and left a message on his voicemail asking when he thought he would be home and if she should just hold off on making the big breakfast she'd been planning.

Then she had waited. And waited and waited, the morning turning to afternoon and then to night, the only light in the apartment coming from the Christmas Tree. The beautiful evergreen they had picked out together and the first she had decorated in years.

Finally, just two hours shy of midnight, he had shown up. He'd smelled of booze and cigarettes, and she wonders now why she didn't kick him out the second she laid eyes on his sorry ass. But she hadn't, she'd wanted an explanation as to why he had let her wait around all day for him, only to have him show up stumbling and drunk. His answer had nearly knocked her off her feet.

Even through his slurred speech she had been able to hear the words, 'I can't do this anymore', loud and clear. He'd explained that he had never wanted things between them to go as far as they had, but until now he hadn't been able to tell her because he hadn't wanted to make her 'situation' any worse.

That's when she had kicked him out. Calling what had happened to her a fucking 'situation' had been the last straw. She'd told him she would call to let him know when he could come pick up his things and had slammed the door in his face, locking it behind him.

The fury had barely lasted her a few seconds and had quickly turned into sobs and tears that had her curled up in their-her bed for the first day and a half. Eventually her stomach and bladder began to protest against her dormant state and the pains from both organs had brought back flashbacks from her time with Lewis and she had forced herself to get up and do something about them.

The next few days had been a never ending cycle. She would eat, which would give her just enough energy to take a shower and get dressed, and then she would find herself curled up on either the sofa or the bed, staring blindly into space.

Tonight it is the sofa and her eyes are focused on the window where she can just make out the glow coming from Times Square. Neither of them had been scheduled to work tonight and they had made plans to join the festivities, something she hadn't done since she was a teenager, and it looks like she won't be doing it again anytime soon either.

She had loved him. Loved the safety and security he'd given her after Lewis. Loved that he was patient in helping her heal. Now she wonders if she was just loving a front, a mask that he had put up to deal with her until she seemed stable enough to let go.

She lets out a deep breath and takes a fleeting look around the dark apartment. She has come full circle. After a year of a seemingly perfect and normal relationship, she, Olivia Benson, is spending the holidays alone once again. She starts to laugh at the irony of it all, but the humor quickly dissipates until she finds herself crying again, the tears blurring her vision and making the light coming from outside her window distorted. She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her face in her lap, wondering if the sobs will rock her right off the couch.

She doesn't know how much time has passed when she hears the knock on the front door. She tries to quiet her cries, not wanting him to hear how much him leaving has effected her, but doesn't move to answer the door. The call she promised him hasn't been made yet. She doesn't have the energy to even think about packing up his things. He still has his key, if he really wants his stuff now he can just come in and get it, she won't be helping him.

He knocks again, more of a pound this time and she doesn't understand what the hell he's expecting her to do. If it's a matter of him losing his key...well she doesn't give a fuck. He should've waited for her to call him like she said she would.

He pounds even harder against the wood and this time she's had enough.

"Dammit Brian, go the hell away!" She screams, angry with the way her voice cracks on the last word.

The pounding stops and she lets out a sigh of relief, but her breath hitches when she hears the voice drift quietly through the door.

"Liv, it's not Brian...it's-it's me." There's a pause and she hears a small thud against the door, his head, maybe a fist, she doesn't know.

She does know who 'me' is and that his voice is still a breath of fresh air even after three years of absence. She knows she should be mad that he's shown up here, out of the blue after all of this time, but she's been sitting in the dark, alone, for the past week and she wants something, someone to pull her out of it. So she finds her feet taking her to the door and watches as her hand turns the lock and then the knob and the door is opening and she's only staring at him for a second before her whole body is throwing itself at him and she is breathing in his scent against the cool skin of his neck even as her tears begin to seep onto him and soak his shirt.

He gently picks her up and carries her back inside and she holds onto him for dear life. And for once she doesn't care if she looks like a mess as he carries her over to the couch and pulls her onto his lap, all that matters is that he's there. He's there, finally and he's holding her and just letting her be, not questioning her, not waiting for her to explain, he's just there.

As her breathing begins to even out and the tears stop she feels him move, his hand finding its way to the side of her face, his other arm wrapping more firmly around her as he begins to speak.

"I'm sorry." His apology is a whisper into her hair and she closes her eyes against the warmth of his cheek on her head. "I'm sorry, for everything. For leaving you. For waiting this long to come see you. I know about what happened, with that guy Lewis, and dammit, Liv I should've been there. I should've stopped him, I'm so damn sorry."

Something odd and strangled leaves his mouth and his chest starts to shake. It's not until she feels the moisture on her hair that she realizes he's crying. She pulls back and puts her hands on either side of his face and really looks at him for the first time. His frame is smaller, less built. There is stubble on his chin and his shirt is wrinkled. His eyes are closed, trying to stop the tears, she thinks, but she knows if they were open they would show her the same thing she sees in the rest of him. He's broken. He's not and will never be the same man who walked away from her three years ago.

She rests her forehead against his and breathes in deeply, breathes him in. "It's okay. Elliot, everything is going to be okay."

It is, because she's broken too. She's changed too. They'll pick up the pieces together, slowly and carefully so they don't get cut on the ragged edges, but they'll do it together.

He opens up his eyes, the blue orbs still shiny and wet, but they're hopeful. "You sure 'bout that?"

She nods her head once and doesn't think twice as she brushes her lips against his. After fifteen years of wondering what this would be like, she isn't surprised at all to find that kissing him is exactly like what she would expect it to be. It's warm and slow and it makes her feel safe, loved. She pulls back and rests her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

They sit like that for a while until he becomes fidgety and she nudges him, motioning for him to lay down because she knows he's uncomfortable and probably just as exhausted as she is. He adjusts her so she's lying half on him and half on the sofa an she feels at peace. Her eyes start to droop and she can feel sleep tugging at her, but something catches her eye.

The green blinking numbers of the clock on her television read 12:15 and she realizes with a smile that it's a new year. She glances up at Elliot and finds his eyes closed, his breathing beginning to even out indicating he's almost if not already asleep. She thinks it's fitting that he's somehow avoided brining an end to the old year and instead has started off her new one.

**A/N: Hey all! Hope you had a good Christmas and I wish you a happy New Year. I wanted to let you all know I am working with a beta and have a new multi-chapter EO fic in the works. I'm hoping to get about five chapters written before I start posting so that the posting will be more regular even if I get some writer's block now and again. **

**Alright, that's all I got! **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Katie **


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